


Hot to the Touch

by Synesthesia_Demon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synesthesia_Demon/pseuds/Synesthesia_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's too hot in London, and John and Sherlock are horny. Sherlock needs to get creative to convince John to have sex, or suffer the heatwave in more discomfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot to the Touch

“Please don't, Sherlock, it's too hot,” moaned John into the sofa. 

Sherlock sighed and lifted his hands from John's back. The temperature in London had reached a scorching 38.9°C, with a 77% humidity, and it had been this way for the past three days. The central air had shut off the night before, and only a small fan in the corner provided a fleeting relief from the choking heat. They had taken to laying about in just pants (well, John had, Sherlock was naked, nothing new there), and praying that they had no visitors that would force them back into clothes. 

Sherlock was in _the_ mood, though, and he knew John was, too. He had promised that they'd do it today “if the heat lets up”, and Sherlock had been so sure it couldn't go on for another day. He had been proven horribly wrong. And he couldn't stand not being able to touch John. He leaned forward to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Sherlock, _please,_ ” he snapped, rolling his shoulder in irritation. Sherlock's eyes narrowed. 

“You're not even going to let me kiss you? Not once?”

“You've done it once, no more. You kissing me is going to lead to you touching me and I really, _really_ am not comfortable with that right now. It's too bloody hot.” He turned his head into the couch. “Now please, _please_ will you let me be?”

“Hmm.” Sherlock sat on the floor and steepled his fingers. He sat for some time, staring at the wall and thinking, before standing up and stalking over to the linen closet. He snatched up two towels, then went to the freezer. He pulled the small ice bin out and carried it into the bathroom. He filled the tub with enough water to soak the towels, then dropped the towels and ice in. Minutes later he pulled one out, squeezed it a bit to prevent drips, and went back to the living room.

John heard the footsteps and huffed. “What are you up to now, Sherlo-” He was cut off by his own yelp as Sherlock laid the soaked, icy towel across John's back. Then John shivered and moaned. 

“Oh that's lovely, Sherlock, absolutely brilliant,” he breathed.

“I know,” he murmured, “There's another in the bathtub for when this one gets too warm.” Sherlock rubbed John's back through the towel. “I figured you could do with a bit of cooling off, so that perhaps...”

John turned his head to him, eyes rolling. “So we can fuck, then? Is that what all this is for?”  
Sherlock gasped in mock-shock. “I am offended, John Watson, that you would think so lowly of me. Of course I did this to comfort you.” He stroked John's thigh with a cooled hand. “I wouldn't dream of doing this just for sex.” His fingers slid between his legs and traced circles near the edge of John's red pants. He leaned forward to blow on John's ear. “Not at all.”

“Mm, you've made your point,” he grumbled. “Alright, alright. We can-”

“Back in a tick,” said Sherlock, barely able to hide his glee as he sprinted down the hall. He returned with a bottle of lube and a dry towel. His lips touched John's tenderly, thankfully. John lifted his head and pulled him close, not minding the sweat in Sherlock's curls. 

“Mmph, you beautiful thing,” breathed Sherlock, planting kisses all over John's nose and cheeks. He peeled back the towel and stroked his back with a finger. He followed it with his mouth, leaving hot spots behind. He tongued a circle in the small of his back. “You beautiful, wonderful man.” He pulled John's pants to his ankles, spread John's cheeks, and ran his wet, wiggling tongue up his crack. John groaned in response and pushed his hips back. And then, to further drive him mad, he pushed his tongue into his hole. John whimpered, his cock aching and pressed against the sofa. His hips rose up; Sherlock took the opportunity to circle his erection then, stroking and pumping with every bob of his head, with every press against John's backside. He cupped his balls as his lips trailed down the inside of John's thighs, replacing where his fingers had been not too long ago. 

“Sherlock,” he keened, bracing himself on shaky arms, “Sherlock, _please._ ”

“I'm doing it, John, I'm doing it,” he soothed, popping the cap on the lube and slicking his fingers. He traced his arsehole teasingly before pressing the tip in. John growled for more and Sherlock obliged, sliding it in and out before adding a second. 

“Sherlock, please _please please_ just get in there, I don't know if I can last much longer,” he moaned. His head had dropped to the sofa again and his eyes begged him to go further. Sherlock stroked himself while John was watching, his gaze drowned in longing and lust for his lover. More than anything, Sherlock wanted to pound into his tight arse until they were both screaming, but today wasn't going to be that kind of day. No, he'd take John ever so slowly, so tenderly, that John's mind would be melted even more than his body. He glided himself into John, rolling his hips as he got himself completely in. He pulled out slowly and snapped back in. And with every rock he pumped John's cock with a slippery hand. He bent over him and pressed a kiss to the scar on his shoulder. 

“Let me know if you get too warm again,” he murmured, grinning slyly.

“Nngh!” was his only reply. 

He circled the head, collecting a few drops of precum and pressed them to his lips. “Mm, John, do you know how _tasty_ you are?” He snapped his hips up. “Absolutely... delicious.” He squeezed and John moaned again. 

“Oh god oh god oh fuck me fuck me fuck me, Sherlock, fuck me!” cried John. His hands fisted and his shoulders hunched as he thrust back on him, driving him deep and hitting a spot so sweet it made his head whirl. 

“Oh I am, I _am_ , John,” he grunted, thrusting harder and biting his lip. He panted, “You're going to make me cum in your tight little arse, and I want you to go first.” John's breathing hitched and he whined, the roughness and rawness of Sherlock's voice pushing him past the line and into a convulsion of orgasm. He twitched and shook, and would have fallen over if not for Sherlock holding his hip. Sherlock slid two fingers into John's mouth. “Taste yourself,” he rasped, and John sucked eagerly.

“Oh that's wonderful, that's so lovely, oh John _John JOHN JOHN JOOOOHN!_ ” Sherlock threw his head back and called out his name in a beastly roar as he shot his spunk into his arse, groaning with every spurt and gasping as it spilled and ran down his cock. He bent and kissed his back. “Oh, _John._ ”

John could only nod his head in agreement. He flopped downwards. Sherlock was careful not to follow, suddenly remembering that it was unbearably _hot_ in the flat. He took the damp towel and cleaned John up, tossed it on the floor, and staggered to find the other wet one. He then lay himself on the floor, pulled John down with him, and threw the towel over their backsides. They dozed off, and woke later to the central air back on and ice-cold arses.

John suggested Sherlock try and warm his up immediately.

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you're reading here? Follow me on tumblr @ http://synesthesiademon.tumblr.com/


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